The Bossman

by Renee Rose

  She discovered many women requesting advice on how to get their husbands to act more dominant, or to spank them. She snorted at the thought of coaching Joey. The man was a born dominant, taking her in hand without even knowing there was such a thing. And while part of her still rebelled because he had no right to impose his will on her ass, there was no denying what it did to her. The thought of him giving her a real punishment, the memory of the way he’d spun her around and delivered his form of justice, made her fingers seek her aching sex, her eyes rolling back in her head.

  She ended up ordering some implements, following the recommendations and reviews of other kinksters, including a wooden paddle, stainless steel butt plug, and aloe vera gel for afterward.

  He called that night before she was heading to bed. He’d called a few times over the past week and every time her traitorous heart picked up speed.

  “Hey, baby. How was your day?”

  She felt suddenly breathless, instantly turned on again remembering where her thoughts had been. “It was great. I, uh, ordered some toys.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Her heart beat like the wings of a little bird. “Yeah. For you to spank me with.” Her voice had grown small.

  “Mmm. I will look forward to that.”

  “Joey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Who else have you spanked?”

  He was quiet long enough that she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “I mean, I’m just curious.” She was more than curious. She hungered for every last dirty detail. “Will you tell me about one?” she coaxed. “Maybe your first?”

  A low laugh told her Joey had caught on. Of all the men she’d ever dated, he was certainly the quickest on the uptake. Or maybe he just got her.

  “It was at the club.”

  The club. She knew he ran a strip club, but hadn’t wanted to know about it and had studiously avoided asking when he’d mentioned work. The thought disgusted her. Now she was intrigued. She sprawled back on her bed, letting her fingers wander between her legs.

  “What happened?”

  “It was years ago--I was pretty young. One of the girls was caught stealing from some of the other girls’ purses. Sammy hauled her into my office.”

  She listened, breath quickened, thighs squeezing together over her hand.

  “Sammy asked me what he ought to do with her. We both were sort of stymied. If she were a guy, he would’ve broken a few fingers without even asking me what I thought. But she was a girl, and you don’t do that.”

  “‘Should I bust the windows in her car?’ Sammy asks. That didn’t seem like such a great idea, considering she was probably stealing because she needed the money, and it would just make her more desperate. She wasn’t a bad employee, you know. But we couldn’t let it go unpunished. So then I had this idea. ‘Bend over my desk and pull up your skirt,’ I told her. She was already crying because she thought Sammy was going to rip her fingernails off, so she did what she was told. Sammy catches on and takes off his belt. I give him a nod and he starts spanking her. He’s not very good at it. Not that I’d ever had any practice, but even sitting behind the desk, I can tell he’s just hitting the same side over and over again and ignoring the other cheek.”

  She held the phone away from her face so he couldn’t hear her breath, which had turn to panting as she neared orgasm. Her fingers worked her clit, rubbing and undulating as she imagined the scene.

  “So I’m coaching him--‘hit both sides, no, now the other side.’ I have this sense it should go slower--I don’t know why--to give her time to really feel her predicament, I guess. So I tell him to slow down. I watch her face. Sammy is giving me looks, waiting for me to say enough. I hold up my finger. There’s a point when someone breaks. Same as beating a guy on the street, just different, because it’s a girl and they cry sooner. You wait till they stop looking stubborn, till they stop holding back. You wait till--” he broke off and she tried to swallow her gasps. “Did you just come?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted, out of breath. She gave a short bark of laughter. “Is that weird?”

  “No,” he said, his voice rough. “I just wish I were with you.”

  She pulled her hand out of her panties and pinched her own nipples through her T-shirt. “You could come over...”

  “Be right there.”

  Jesus. Something was seriously wrong with her. She should not be getting off hearing about some stripper’s punishment. Except it was seriously hot. She imagined Joey letting her watch him spank one of the girls, or being one of the girls getting spanked by Sammy with Joey watching.

  By the time Joey arrived, she was two strokes away from another orgasm. He strode into the room, looking every inch the badass he was. “I thought I told you to keep that front door locked,” he growled.

  She sat up in the bed, alert to the possibility he was serious. “Sorry, sir.”

  A twitch of his lip gave him away. “Do you need me to help you remember?” he asked, slowly unbuckling his belt.

  She scrambled backward on the bed. “No, sir.”

  He smiled a slow, dangerous smile as he pulled the belt free of his belt loops and doubled it, smacking his palm with a resounding whap. He grinned when she jumped at the sound. “Come here, little girl,” he said, crooking a finger. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

  She crawled slowly off the bed and approached, trying to figure out how she could call the whole thing off. As if there was an audience she didn’t want to hear, she whispered, “I didn’t really want, I mean--”

  He put an arm around her waist and pulled her body up against his, smirking down at her and lifting his eyebrows. “You didn’t want a spanking?”

  She gave a tiny shake of her head. “No?”

  “I think you do,” he said, brushing his lips over her temple. “I think you want the spanking, but you’re just a little scared.” He nipped at her neck. “Am I right?”

  Sophie’s nipples poked through the thin cotton of her worn t-shirt, which was the only thing she wore besides a pair of black boy-cut panties. She lifted her pale green eyes to his and gave a tiny nod. He felt a surge of protectiveness at her vulnerability. Giving her his warmest smile, he promised, “You can trust me, Soph.”

  “Do I get a safe word or something?”

  “Sure, if you want. But I’ll pay attention. Do you believe that?”

  She smiled shyly and nodded.

  “Bend over the bed, naughty girl.”

  She cast him a pleading look, but obediently turned and folded her torso over the bed. He took his time peeling the little briefs down to her thighs, admiring the tight lean muscles of her ass and thighs. He swung the doubled belt lightly a few times, testing his aim, then picked up the intensity, enjoying the sound of her gasps and the way her hips danced about to assuage the pain. He kept the pace slow enough for her to stay in control, only using one quarter of his strength. When he felt her grow agitated, he stopped and rubbed her warm ass with his hand. She arched her low back and rocked her pelvis forward to present herself to him, sending any self-control he had up in flames. He fumbled for a condom with the fingers of one hand as the digits of the other slid into the sweet heat of her ready slit.

  She moaned, making his cock strain wildly against his pants. He freed it and rolled the condom on in record time, pushing into Sophie’s welcoming sex while he reached his hand around the front to rub her clit. She orgasmed immediately, so he pressed deeply inside her until the clench of her muscles around his cock had spent and her body relaxed.

  “Turn around, baby,” he said, pulling out. She made a protesting sound when his cock left her, but obediently turned around. He picked her legs up to bring her feet to his shoulders, tearing the briefs off her legs and biting her calf as his eager cock sought her entrance. Finding it, he slid in without assistance and began to pump slowly, relishing the feel of her tight channel.

  “So hot,” he murmured as she pulled up her thin T-shirt and pinched her own n
ipples. She undulated her hips, giving his balls a delicious rub every time they flattened against her. “Oh, God, Sophie, yeah,” he groaned, gripping her thighs and hauling her closer. “You are so. Fucking. Hot right now.”

  “Yes,” she moaned and he lost all control, coming all too soon, but wringing out every last bit of satisfaction so when he shot his load and was spent, he felt dizzy with completion.

  “Whoa.” He toppled down beside her, lost in the sensation of pleasure and gratitude. “You are amazing.”

  “Mmm,” she purred, her hands stroking over his chest.

  “You have about 90 minutes to stop that,” he joked.

  “Oh yeah?” She climbed over him, sliding her hands over his muscles with practiced expertise.

  He melted into the bed, his eyes closed in ecstasy. “Was that what a masseuse does, then?” he teased, earning a nipple pinch before she soothed him into a deep slumber.

  Chapter Five

  She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her torso, stepping into her bedroom to fish a pair of bra and panties out of the dresser.

  Joey sat on her bed, pulling on his socks. “Al’s having a barbecue Sunday. I want you to go with me.”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” Her tone was bitchier than she’d intended and she could tell by the way Joey’s head snapped up she’d offended.

  He finished dressing and stood up. “I’m asking. Are you picking a fight?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. He walked around behind her and grabbed a fistful of hair. “Hmm?” he growled in her ear. Her pussy clenched and she couldn’t seem to answer.

  He turned her around without releasing her hair. The tough guy look slid away, replaced by an earnest expression. “I’m sorry if I sound bossy--it’s just the way I talk. It doesn’t mean I won’t bend for you.”

  Her heart thundered at his concession. How could he transition from bossman to considerate lover in the blink of an eye?

  He slipped his fingers inside her bra and rolled her nipple between them. “I thought you liked me being the boss of you. Are you going to let me be in charge?”

  She wanted to say no, because she understood he was asking a serious question, but she couldn’t think straight with her head pulled back and her nipple being tortured. He withdrew his hand from her bra and reached between her legs, running a finger inside the rim of her panties. A tremor ran simultaneously down both inner thighs.

  “Are you, little girl?” he asked, his finger lightly brushing over her moistened labia.

  “Yes,” was all she could whisper.

  “Good girl,” he said and leaned forward, pressing his lips over hers with a hard, demanding kiss at the same moment his fingers pinched her clit. She shuddered, a small orgasm rippling through her.

  He released her when it had passed, looking satisfied with himself as he sauntered to her dresser and started going through her jewelry.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Looking at what you wear,” he said, picking up various pieces and examining them. “Is this what you like or what you can afford?”

  She gave him a withering look. “It’s what I like to wear.”

  He held up his hands, grinning. “Okay, okay. That’s why I asked.”

  “I hate diamond heart pendants if that’s what you were wondering,” she said, crossing to the closet and choosing a blouse.

  He grinned. “Yes, that was what I was wondering. Looks like you prefer semi-precious gemstones in large, arty styles. Is that right?”

  “Yeah,” she grinned. “That’s pretty good.”

  He blew on his nails and buffed them. “See? Some Neanderthals know how to pay attention.”

  She picked up a pillow and tossed it in his face, but he caught it easily. “Uh oh. Now you’re in trouble,” he said, lunging to catch her around the waist, and giving her ass a hard slap.

  “Ow! No fair!” she yelped, covering her behind with her hand.

  “Mmm hmm. You mess with the bull, you get the horns,” he said, holding two fingers up in a Dances With Wolves buffalo imitation.

  She giggled.

  He picked up his gun from the dresser. “Listen. I’m going to leave this here for you. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger in her face. “And I did mean it about you locking the door.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but--”

  “I’m leaving the gun. Do you know how to use it?”

  She nodded. “Yes. My dad taught me. But I don’t need a gun here, Joey.”

  He ignored her. “I’m putting it up here,” he said, reaching to a high corner shelf in her closet. “It’s loaded and the safety’s on.”

  “But what will you use?”

  “I think I can find another one,” he said drily.

  Right. Of course. Her skin turned ice cold, the reality of keeping guns in her house, of keeping men who used guns in her house not just distasteful, but bone-chilling. No matter how sweet his words, or hot the sex, she couldn’t forget who or what Joey La Torre was: a made man in the mafia. A killer. The kind of guy who winds up in jail or dead--just like her father.

  Sophie seemed nervous as they drove to Al’s for the barbecue. He remembered the way she’d bristled when he’d invited her and wondered if it was painful for her to be around her father’s compares. He put a hand on her knee and squeezed but she only stiffened. Parking the car, he led her through the side gate into the backyard where the men were all standing around the grill and the children were playing a game of touch football on the lawn.

  He greeted them and introduced Sophie. “You all remember Sophie Palazzo? Artie’s daughter?”

  “Yeah, of course,” they all said.

  “Hi, Pauly,” she offered, with an awkward little wave. He wondered if Pauly was the only one she remembered. “This is Alex, Sammy, and my brother, Don Alberto.”

  Al stuck out his hand and she shook it, not quite meeting his eye. “It’s good to see you, Sophie. It’s been a long time--too long.”

  There was criticism in Al’s remark, and Sophie didn’t miss it. She gave a little shrug. “Well, it hasn’t been high on my list, but Joey didn’t give me much of a choice this time.”

  He stiffened with the rest of the men. What the fuck? He took Sophie by the elbow, in a hurry to lead her away before any more damage was done. Al had raised his eyebrows and he wanted her out of there before his brother spoke.

  He tugged her along until they reached the side of the house, where he bent his head and hissed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  She lifted her chin. “What?”

  “Don’t give me that. You were deliberately rude, not just to my compares, but to the boss.”

  Her lip curled. “The boss?” she sneered. “The boss is your brother.”

  He gave her a little shake. “That’s even worse!”

  When she continued to look stubborn, he released her, fearing in his frustration he might squeeze her arms too hard or frighten her. He put his hands on his hips and blew his breath out, looking back toward the direction of the men. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut if you can’t say something nice, capisce?” She started to stalk off and he caught her arm, pulling her back. “Capisce?” he demanded.

  A muscle in her jaw jumped. “Capito,” she spit out, pulling free of his hold. “I understand you perfectly.” The bitterness in her voice cut him like glass.

  She stalked into the house like she owned the place, so he left her on her own. She would know enough women inside to make herself comfortable, if she could manage to be polite. He walked back to the grill, gritting his teeth at the prospect of facing the men after that less than ideal introduction to his new girlfriend.

  Al ignored him when he came up, so the others took his cue and looked into their drinks, or off into the distance.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said.

  Al gave him an appraising look. “Real nice, Joey. So
, I guess she is a bitch like her mother.” He looked at Sammy as if the two of them had been discussing her.

  His teeth snapped together, the muscles of his jaw straining so hard one side started twitching. Al’s eyes traveled from the fists clenched at his side to his face. “That wouldn’t go well for you,” he said, flicking his eyes back to the fists with his customary superiority that made Joey want to throttle him. With great effort, he unclenched his fingers.

  “She was bitchy,” he said, satisfied that he kept his tone even. “But she’s not a bitch.”

  “If you say so,” Al said, flipping a burger.

  “Sophie Palazzo!” Alberto’s wife Carmen greeted her when she walked in the large, expensively outfitted kitchen. The women were gathered around the huge granite-topped island talking in loud voices as they chopped or arranged food. “Al told me you were coming. It’s good to see you.” She moved forward to receive kisses. “Ma, you remember Artie Palazzo’s daughter?” Carmen said to her mother-in-law.Doña Teresa narrowed her eyes and gave Sophie the full up and down sweep with her eyes. “Sure, I remember. You came with my Joey?”

  She presented herself to Doña Teresa for kisses as well. “Did you fix his knee yet? That was the reason I had him call you, not for dating.” She circled her hand in the air to disparage the entire concept of dating.

  “Ah, dating’s fine too, Ma. You should be happy. Joey hasn’t brought a girl around since he broke up with Alessia over a year ago.”

  “He should’ve married her!” Doña Teresa cried and Carmen gave Sophie an eye roll behind her back.

  She found her Aunt Marie and gave her a huge hug, genuinely glad to see her. Marie began her usual gossip, which was a relief, as it kept her mind off her fight with Joey, off the rudeness of his mother and away from her general discomfort at being there.

  When the men came in with the meat, she kept herself completely occupied with Marie, foolishly thinking Joey would be easy to blow off. Of course, he came to stand at her elbow and when she didn’t take the hint, he put his arm around her waist and directed her to a white leather couch in the living room. Like all Sicilian family gatherings, the house was packed with noise and people--children running amok, loud voices exclaiming and chattering. It usually made it easy enough for her to fade away, but it seemed coming as Joey’s date made that impossible. His mother plopped herself in the easy chair next to them.